


The Flesh

by Commander_Freddy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Post-Canon, Power Play, Subspace, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 14:58:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20950283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commander_Freddy/pseuds/Commander_Freddy
Summary: Being a vampire comes with its drawbacks. For starters, immortality is one hell of an enabler for workaholics. Thankfully, vampirism has a lot of upsides, too, like husbands with sharp teeth.(Violence warning just because of some rather hardcore biting, but it's fine they're immortal and married no one gets Hurt and it's. Very Consensual)





	The Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise in advance if the vampirism mechanics don't make sense but like... I will write vampire porn for free, but I refuse to put in the effort to ensure it aligns with any internal logic or lore unless I'm getting paid SFWA qualifying rates lmao anyway enjoy

Ferdinand pulled the door to their quarters shut and allowed himself a moment to rest his forehead against the wood and sigh.

“Oh darling, I do apologise for my tardiness,” he said, turning his tired body toward the room at last. “It seems everyone in Fódlan has forgotten where to submit building reports and I-”

The sight of his husband cut Ferdinand short. Hubert von Adrestia was not in bed, but rather sitting at their shared desk with a pile of letters and the Imperial holdings ledger before him. Exactly where Ferdinand had left him eight hours ago.

“Hubert!”

But his disdain soon turned to genuine fear when Hubert did not respond, his eyes unblinking and fixed to the records. His husband’s skin was cold, clammy, beneath his hands once Ferdinand crossed the room, and it seemed to take him a moment to realise he was even being touched at all.

“Ferdinand…” he said, as if he had just acquired a new tongue. His brow furrowed. “How long have you been there?”

“I should ask the same of you!” Ferdinand cried. Hubert’s eyes seemed unable to focus on him properly, despite the fact that he was standing between Hubert and the desk, their faces mere inches apart. “Have you been sitting here all night?”

“All night?” Hubert asked. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to look past the wall of cavalier bearing over him.

“Hubert, it’s nearly dawn,” replied Ferdinand. He cupped Hubert’s chin with one hand, swiping the bags beneath his eye with his thumb to see his husband wince. Goddess, he looked exhausted. He hadn’t expected it to be possible for someone look worse than dead, but Hubert von Adrestia always did love to go above and beyond. Hubert leant into his hand, firm with a neediness no one else got to see. And yet, he was still Hubert.

“I just have to finish this.”

“What _are_ you doing, anyway?” Ferdinand asked, leaning back to rest his ass on the desk and look down at the Imperial holdings ledger. “I haven’t seen you cross-reference yield analyses this fastidiously since the war.”

“Not analysis,” said Hubert. He twirled the quill in his hand and leant forward again. “Data entry.”

“Hubert!” Ferdinand pulled the quill from his hand, fast enough that Hubert was left staring at his fingers, still blinking through his exhaustion. “What has gotten into you? Why are you doing such menial tasks – you know you’ve plenty of able clerks to transcribe data for you, I watched you train them! What possible reason could you have for wasting your time and talent on writing down the numbers when we need you to tell us what they mean?”

Hubert was quiet for a moment, his eyes still fixed on his hand resting at the edge of his desk. How Ferdinand hated to see him slouch. It made him look as if all the world were balanced on his shoulders, ready to fall at any moment. He’d seen the Emperor wear that posture more times than he could count. Felt the burden of it on his own shoulders. But it never ached more than when he saw it weigh down upon the man he’d dedicated his life not to serving, but loving. To be alone together, and yet still crowded out by the stranger that was responsibility… It did not seem fair.

Yet here they were.

“I don’t know,” Hubert admitted at last. “A page brought the yield listings to me instead of my office staff, and, of course, I was curious. I only intended to have a look and then… Nothing. Until you arrived. It was as if I were in a trance.”

Ferdinand pressed the back of his palm against Hubert’s forehead, only to receive a weak laugh in response.

“I am not ill, my dear,” said Hubert. And then he grew quiet. “Edelgard warned me of such things, before she turned me. I must admit, at first I thought it was her own anxieties, regarding the inhuman in positions of power.”

Ferdinand cupped Hubert’s face in both his palms, firm, earnest.

“We are not inhuman. Not like the goddess and her brood. We are simply dead.”

Hubert smiled.

“Quite so,” he said, lifting a hand to curl around one of Ferdiand’s. “But a living mind and a dead one operate in different ways. And Edelgard warned me that those of us of a… post-human proclivity-” Ferdinand found his own mouth twisting into a smile at his husband’s terrible sense of humour “-may find ourselves falling into patterns of thought and behaviour unfamiliar to the living. Numbers, she said, was a big one. And we only become more susceptible over time as we lose our strength, and…” Hubert’s smile had faded. “Our humanity.”

“Hubert.”

Ferdinand’s riding boot came down hard on the edge of Hubert’s chair, resting firm against Hubert’s leg. Hubert, to his credit, maintained his air of distant repose, though Ferdinand suspected that had more to do with his exhaustion than anything else.

“Tell me,” he continued, gesturing with a half-stretched arm. “Which do you believe more likely: that at the tender age of thirty two, you are already succumbing to the allure of the immortal, losing grip on the nature of what it is to be human, or, that you have not fed in two days, and you’re tired and hungry?”

“We do not technically need to sleep-”

Ferdinand shook his head with a roll of his eyes, sending his hair flying out from behind his ears. He was in Hubert’s lap within seconds, sitting side-saddle with his legs crossed. Out of what had to be instinct, Hubert’s arms came to circle his waist immediately.

“Now you know that isn’t the truth,” he said, grabbing Hubert by the chin. “We may have unlimited physical energy but our minds still need to be switched off occasionally, to have time to process what we have seen and done, lest our minds-“ he reached behind himself, brushing the pages of the ledger “-begin to run in circles.”

Hubert scowled, but his silence spoke volumes. Ferdinand never hoped for his husband to outright say “you’re right”, just as Hubert never expected it from him. That was how they operated, after all. Neither of them was ever perfectly correct, after all. They filled each other’s gaps of knowledge, and quiet acceptance was all that heralded that acquiescence. After all, they’d never get anything done if they pointed it out every time.

“Have you fed tonight?” Ferdinand asked, his voice slipping low, quiet.

“No,” Hubert murmured, eyes lidded.

“Poor darling,” cooed Ferdinand, and no doubt Hubert would be rolling his eyes if his husband hadn’t just pressed his thumb against his lips, forcing his mouth open so he could get a good look at those fangs.

Absolutely gorgeous. Those twin sets bracketing his upper and lower jaws never failed to set Ferdinand’s skin alight with desire. How well he remembered the night he’d first seen Hubert go slack-jawed with desire, those curved spikes glinting with drool. The poor dear had tried to be so civil in turning Ferdinand, offering to cut himself and everything so Ferdinand would only need take a quick lick of his vampiric blood. But that, of course, wasn’t at all how the night had played out.

“Lucky for you,” he continued, pressing his fingers into that lovely mouth, “I’ve something to slake that thirst of yours.”

And then his fingers were gone, though Hubert tried to chase them with an almost pathetic lean forward, coming down to begin unbuttoning his jacket instead.

“Oh?” Hubert said, voice under control, but body long gone. “It’s not like you to share.”

“Such a horrible thing to say,” said Ferdinand with a pout, swiveling in Hubert’s lap to face away from him. The hand at his abdomen pulled him tight, afraid of an escape he would not make, and he allowed himself a smile Hubert would not see. So needy already. “You know I only want the best for you, my dear. It wouldn’t be right for me to foist my daily fare upon you, pedestrian as it is.”

He pulled his jacket from his shoulders with a flourish and had barely placed it on the desk before Hubert’s mouth was at the back of his neck. How he longed for those fangs to tear into him, hold him close, bite down to the bone and suck him dry of everything down to his sanity – Ferdinand sighed, a breathy gasp. All his husband was doing however, was resting his open lips against the skin, trying to get a sense of what flowed beneath.

“At least let me remove my cravat!” Ferdinand scoffed, though his smile shone through in his tone.

Hubert, thanks to the small miracle of his exhaustion, complied, contenting himself with rubbing his nose at the nape of Ferdinand’s neck, a gentle scratch where he had pulled his husband’s hair to the side. But the second the red silk at Ferdinand’s throat fell away, Hubert’s tongue was back at his skin, licking, suckling, pulling little bruises as he moved.

“Thoughts on the menu?” Ferdinand asked.

“Crest of Cethleann,” Hubert murmured, still unwilling to lift his mouth from Ferdinand’s neck.

“Just the thing to revitalise an exhausted servant of the Empire, hmm?” said Ferdinand. “Linhardt was quite eager for me to help with his research tonight.”

‘Yes, I’m sure it was pure scientific curiosity that had him hankering for your teeth at his neck,” said Hubert and Ferdinand gave a bright clear laugh.

Hubert’s hands were at the back of his collar, pushing at the white linen until it strained at the seams.

“Undo more buttons.”

“Why?” asked Ferdinand, though all the cheekiness in the world couldn’t mask how breathless he became when his husband got demanding. “Just how messy are you planning to be?”

In answer, the hand at Ferdinand’s abdomen pressed tighter, and began to move down.

“How messy would you like?”

Ferdinand reached up behind his head to grab at the back of Hubert’s, a tangle of short strands already sweaty in his grip. At the same time his left hand came to rest on top of the hand at his waistband, guiding it to the bulge that threatened his trouser buttons.

“Oh, darling, you always know the answer to that.”

The only warning he received was the wet scrape of fangs running up his shoulder blade before they came down, hard, piercing, desperate, at the junction between neck and shoulder. They sank in immediately, puncturing straight through his skin and boring down deep into his flesh, upper and lower fangs both cutting in, and Ferdinand cried out in delight, his hips bucking without direction or rhythm. Hubert squeezed him tight, the hand at his groin merciless in its pawing, while the other came up to knead at Ferdinand’s thigh, pinching the skin while pulling him tight against Hubert’s chest. There was a moment of pause as Hubert held him there, nails digging into his skin and his fangs gum deep in Ferdinand’s shoulder but still unmoving, his fangs stoppering the wound without drawing anything from it.

“Well, go ahead,” said Ferdinand, giving a pull of Hubert’s hair. “Take as much as you like.”

The act of being drunken from always surprised Ferdinand with how little sensation there actually was. Human bodies weren’t exactly prepared for the eventuality of being sucked dry, and that lack of receptors carried over to the living afterlife. Instead, Ferdinand knew he was being drunk from in the changes in his husband’s body, that masterpiece he knew so well. From the tightening of the corners of his mouth against his skin to the tensing of his abdomen, right up to the deep groan of satisfaction as the blood entered his body, it was all so delightful. Hubert panted open-mouthed against Ferdinand’s shoulder as he continued to suck hot blood up through his fangs, tongue lavishing the freckled skin beneath his teeth as Ferdinand ground against his lap, desperate for the growing ridge between Hubert’s legs.

Hubert’s hands were an uncoordinated mess, the fingers cupping Ferdinand’s dick pulsing between barely there and a vice grip as he squeezed his husband dry, milking him of all the vitality he could, an utterly subconscious fondling to mirror his feeding. The other, the one that had so delighted in digging nail marks into his thigh, couldn’t hold still. It wandered over his inner thighs and crotch, unable to tell whether it wanted to lift Ferdinand’s legs up or push them down to keep grinding against his own cock, which was growing harder with every suck against his shoulder. And then the hand jumped entirely, reaching up to pull at the front of Ferdinand’s shirt. Uncaring of the buttons he demanded Ferdinand undo earlier, it pawed at his chest, popping a button or two open as it grabbed for his pec.

Ferdinand gasped. He’d hoped to say something, even if it was just a slur of Hubert’s name, but only hot breath escaped as Hubert’s nails dragged across his nipple over and over again, kneading at the muscle of his pecs and leaving heavy grooves wherever his fingernails pressed. Hubert sucked deep at his neck, nails digging in at both his dick and his tits as Ferdinand could feel a bruise begin to blossom, to spread, Hubert pushing his teeth even deeper inside and drawing a throbbing groan from the depths of Ferdinand’s throat. He’d feel that, he knew, that mark just below his collar, for days to come. Every time he turned his head to the right, he’d feel the spaces where Hubert’s fangs should have been, feel the pressure and desire of his husband, know he was the only thing in the world that could satisfy him like this. He’d end up popping a boner in the middle of a meeting with a simple flick of his hair, he just knew it, he’d have Hubert bone deep in him for the rest of all time like this, because there was no way he was going so long without this that the mark faded, goddess no. Ferdinand whined, pressing his ass down hard against his husband’s cock. It was so fat beneath him, so hard for him and him alone. Hubert could get crested blood any time he liked, he could taste the goddess herself from the professor or the Emperor if he wanted, he could grow with a power obscene and drink from every crest-bearer in the army to become unstoppable, but only Ferdinand could get him like this, gasping from one drop and thrusting up against Ferdinand’s trousers like he could fuck a hole right through them. Forget blood, Ferdinand could sustain his husband on his presence alone.

And then Hubert tightened his jaw. His upper and lower fangs drew together, scraping along the walls of his incisions and ripping the flesh open anew. Ferdinand keened like a dying animal, bucked hard against him, thrashed against his hands and pulled tight at his hair, crying out at a pitch he hadn’t realised he could reach. Oh, oh, Hubert knew just how to do it. The point of his fangs scratching against the inside of his flesh, fresh blood gouting with every movement, it was sublime, it was perfect, the sting and the ache and the reminder of that first night they’d shared blood. Hubert – Ferdinand’s eyelids fluttered, his mind temporarily going blank as his husband squeezed his balls – Hubert had thought to make it a professional affair, all neat and tidy for his persnickety Prime Minister. How sweet he’d been, holding his knife to the inside of his own arm and explaining that Ferdinand needn’t soil his mouth for more than a second. Hours later when he’d come to, lying in bed covered in his own blood and cum, unable to walk or even string a sentence together, he had a better idea of the sort of man Ferdinand von Adrestia was. Their wedding night, Hubert had confessed he’d fallen in love the second Ferdinand had bit down on him with his still human teeth, determined to start his vampiric life right. Oh, that first taste of Hubert’s blood, nothing could ever have compared to it. Tainted with dark magic and coffee, scorched into a bitter smoky flavour with that deep undercut of salt and iron that Ferdinand so lusted for. Linhardt’s crest of Cethleann may have revitalised with every sip, and Edelgard’s could give him the strength to take down an army, but it was Hubert’s blood that kept him going, that he truly lusted for in the night. He may have sold his soul to the Empire, but his body he kept for Hubert alone.

“Yes,” he gasped, or at least tried to, as Hubert’s fangs pulled out of him.

“Yes!” he groaned, louder, deeper, as those fangs returned to scratch over all the skin they could find, leaving shallow scrapes and deep lines alike across his muscled shoulders.

Ferdinand’s cock throbbed and he could feel his trousers growing wet as he leaked against his buttons, even as his shoulder grew just as damp, his blood and Hubert’s saliva mixed against his skin, such a beautiful blast of chill every time Hubert breathed out. Hubert’s tongue still lapped up the blood that welled from the puncture marks and new scratches alike, but it was clear his heart had shifted from hunger to gluttony. His was the grip not of the exhausted man he’d seen earlier, but his husband, the beautiful butcher of Enbarr, who could hold Ferdinand down and take everything he wanted from him. Which, happily enough, was exactly what Ferdinand wanted.

“I want you,” he panted, head shoved back beneath Hubert’s chin.

“Is that so?” Hubert drawled, tracing the tent in Ferdinand’s pants. “Could have fooled me.”

Ferdinand tossed his head away from his husband – and oh, yes, there was that beautiful pull of torn muscle, the eternal reminder of Hubert’s teeth sunk deep into him – and ground down hard, too hard, leaning forward and crushing him with his cavalier’s thighs.

“Don’t get cocky,” he snapped, even as his heart sang at the sound of Hubert’s pained gasp. Ferdinand stretched his arms out, grabbing the desk in front of him and bowing his back, letting his scratched pecs pop free of his ruined shirt and almost entirely leaving Hubert’s lap, before he slammed back down against him, stretching his legs open and feeling the drag of Hubert’s erection against his ass all the way forward to press hot against his own cock. “And mind you do not forget who’s in charge here.”

But as he lifted his hips again, ready to continue grinding against him, Hubert lifted his as well. And before coherent thought could pierce the fog of arousal clouding Ferdinand’s brain, Hubert’s hands had grabbed him by the hips and were slamming him forward, pressing him down against the desk so that his dick bit into the drawers and his face smashed hard against the wooden surface, drawing a high keen from his lips. 

“Funny,” said Hubert, one hand coming up to fist in Ferdinand’s hair. “You don’t look in charge.”

“And yet-” Ferdinand took a gulp of air, trying to remember how his undead lungs were supposed to work “-yet you’ve got me right where I want to- oh, forget it. Either put your teeth or your dick in me, I can still remember how to talk.”

Hubert laughed, the hand in Ferdinand’s hair pulling a fistful tight and then slamming his face down into the wood again.

“As my beloved commands,” Hubert whispered, and Ferdinand’s cock ached with how earnest he sounded.

Hubert yanked his trousers down with no care for his fly, some of the buttons popping open and Ferdinand crying out in delightful pain as his dick dragged harsh against the fabric, once with the trousers and then again seconds later as his smallclothes were just as quickly pulled to his knees. He missed the tightness when it was gone, the cruel pleasure of being restricted under Hubert’s ministrations and that delightful, elicit feeling of being hard in his court clothes. How he loved to stain his and Hubert’s finery, to know that no matter how much they covered themselves in the trappings of propriety, underneath it all they were only ever desperate beasts, ready at any moment to ruin each other. He rubbed his dick against the edge of the desk as he heard Hubert go looking for lubricant in some drawer, his mind wandering to the last time they’d fed on each other.

It had to have been more than two months ago now, when Ferdinand, run ragged after nearly 48 hours on his feet and unable to avoid the sun, had taken a quick bite of Hubert before the two were due to meet with the Almyran delegation. Ferdinand had been so polite, too, making sure to drink from Hubert’s wrist where he could hide the mark. Not that it had mattered, as seeing his husband suckle so earnestly from his veins with hungry puckered lips and adoring eyes had set Hubert right off, leaving him hard well into the meeting. It was a good thing he had such a reputation for being so cold, as sitting for Claude’s entrance would have been a grave diplomatic misstep for anyone else. Then again, knowing Claude, maybe he had known. Either way, Hubert hadn’t been happy with the indignity and had left Ferdinand tied up and naked on the bed for _hours_ afterward to try and teach him a lesson. Given his personal proclivities, of course, the lesson he’d learnt was hardly the one Hubert had been trying to teach.

Ferdinand drooled against the table at the memory, his hips snapping harder against the uncomfortable bite of the desk.

“Are you hoping to get fucked by me or the desk?” came Hubert’s voice as the strong grip of thin fingers returned to Ferdinand’s hip.

“That depends on who pays me the most attenti-_ah_!” Hubert shoved a finger into his hole without warning, dripping with cold lube and shutting Ferdinand up in an instant.

He had to admit, there were pains he preferred to this one. He clenched tight around Hubert’s finger, breath coming in short pants as he gripped against the desk. He almost wished Hubert had shut him up with his dick instead – that would have hurt more, but there would have been such a lovely sense of urgency, as if Hubert could not bear to wait a moment more before fucking him into oblivion. As it was, however, Ferdinand just had to lie there, attempting to acclimatize to the intrusion pressing in and out of his tight ass.

“Darling.” And suddenly Hubert was back where he was supposed to be, voice low and warm against Ferdinand’s ear, his whole body pressed against his back with that lovely cock resting hot against the back of his thigh and a hand coming to rest against his stomach, rubbing circles against his clenched muscles. Ferdinand found himself relaxing immediately. There was no need to worry – this was no foreign intrusion, this was his husband. Oh, Hubert would fuck him harder than any living man could survive – this was the man who had once given it to him so hard and fast that Ferdinand had started gagging from the pressure against the other end of his digestive system – but only when he asked. Only when he was ready.

He pushed his ass back against his finger.

“Hubert,” he mumbled, leaning into the hand at his stomach so far he could feel his nipples hit the cold wood and grow hard again.

Hubert hummed against him, vibrations caressing all along his back.

“Another one?” he asked. “Or just this tonight?”

“More,” Ferdinand demanded immediately, “But…” He panted as Hubert’s second finger came to circle around his hole, the lube warm by now. “But bite me. As you go in.”

Hubert seemed to think for a moment.

“Would you like to bite me?”

“No,” Ferdinand said. “You. Bite me,” he panted.

“Of course,” said Hubert, though Ferdinand could hear his breaths getting shorter, shallower.

Good. He’d been far too coherent since he’d gotten some blood into his system. As far as Ferdinand was concerned, it wasn’t a good lay until his someone lost their senses.

But, oh, he didn’t waste any time when it came to Ferdinand’s requests. There was the finger, pushing inside, just as lovely long teeth returned to Ferdinand’s skin – the other shoulder this time. The ache of his ass, it was too much, where was the bite, the sting, the-

“Yes!” Ferdinand wailed, Hubert’s fangs cutting deep, curved paths into his flesh.

He bucked his ass back hard, fucking himself on Hubert’s fingers right down to the knuckle and it hurt like absolute hell, but who cared when his blood was gushing into Hubert’s panting mouth, when his dick was leaking heavily against the desk, permanently tainting what was supposed to be a place of work? Who cared if it hurt, when Hubert loved him so much he would carve new pathways into his flesh at just one word from him?

“Now, now,” Ferdinand was babbling. “Put it in now, fuck me, fuck me now.”

He whined when Hubert’s fingers disappeared, pressing back, looking for something, anything to go up his ass. Once, Hubert had used the pommel of a dagger as a buttplug and oh, that had been… Rather uncomfortable really, but they had both been drunk and thought it hilarious. Ferdinand would take anything Hubert gave him, he knew that for a fact.

“Please, please, Hubert!” he whined.

The hand that had been massaging his stomach came around to grip his hip tight, stopping his desperate canting and holding him in place against the desk, the edge still biting uncomfortably into his cock. Ferdinand groaned – a funny halting sound cut short by gagging on his own eagerness. There was Hubert’s dick, pressed up into the cleft of his ass and against his hole, holding so awfully still as Hubert pulled his teeth from Ferdinand’s shoulder and lapped up the blood from the new wounds there.

“Hey, hey!” Ferdinand cried. “Keep biting!”

“I thought you liked both to go in at once,” Hubert replied, his lips ghosting against his skin.

“Oh,” whispered Ferdinand, followed almost immediately by a wail unlike anything else as he was breached by Hubert’s dick and fangs at once.

Yes, yes, this was what he had hungered for – Hubert’s fat cock slamming into him over and over as the vitality was drained from his veins, sustaining his beautiful husband with the energy he needed to keep pounding his prostate until Ferdinand forgot what year it was. Ferdinand’s hips rolled back, seeking as hard an impact as he could manage, but Hubert was having none of that. Both his hands dug into Ferdinand’s pelvis, holding him tight, still, keeping him in place as Hubert pounded him into the desk, using him as food and fucktoy at once. Ferdinand groaned, luxuriating in every blow to his ass, every scrape of Hubert’s fangs against the inside of his flesh. He wanted those long, scarred hands on his dick, rolling his balls, playing with his tits, harsh at his neck, squeezing out the air he didn’t technically need, he wanted Hubert everywhere, lavishing with every affection under the rising sun. But he got none of that. Just that scratching grip at his hipbones, holding him up from the desk and down onto Hubert’s cock, the rhythm entirely Hubert’s, the pace all his, everything his, all for Hubert to take.

The fangs disappeared from his shoulder and Ferdinand sobbed, his face mashed up against the desk contorted into despair for the missing pain.

“Where-?” he begged, too desperate for words.

But then Hubert’s mouth returned, not his fangs but his lips, brushing up at the nape of Ferdinand’s neck at the faint, still short hairs there, ravishing him with an adoration of open mouth and heart alike.

“Here,” Hubert breathed, more air than sound. “My darling, I am always…”

Ferdinand’s face was beginning to tingle, the edges of his vision blurring and fuzzing as his brain forgot how to turn the sounds Hubert was making into meaning. What possible meaning could there be, beyond the knowledge that Hubert was on top of him, drawing pleasure from him with every movement? What more could he need to know? His whole body was tingling now, as though it thrummed with dark magic, but he could still feel Hubert’s tongue swiping across his bitemarks, Hubert’s fingernails digging tight enough into his hips to draw blood. In the morning he’d have new scars, new bruises, new cuts and scrapes and a thousand other things. Every night, any time he liked, he could outdo the amount of wounds he’d garnered in the war a thousandfold, and no priest would insist on magicking them away for his “health”. They were his, he’d earnt them, they were gifts from his darling, immortal husband, who he never had to worry about being separated from again, never had to spend nights worrying about what eldritch magic Those Who Slither might use against him and Edelgard when they were away, on missions the public could never know of. Those days were over, and there was nothing in the world to worry about except making sure Hubert enjoyed every moment of their future to the fullest.

Not even Hubert filling his ass with cum could bring him all the way back to reality, no matter how much he loved that hot, full feeling. All he could feel was the cold wood beneath his face, wet with his saliva and probably tears – he did have a tendency to cry when they went this hard, from the sheer strength of the sensations alone. But Hubert’s softening cock was still pumping into him as that lovely deep voice whispered in his ear, burnt fingertips raking up his chest to lift Ferdinand up, off the desk and into that pure floating bliss, suspended only in Hubert’s arms and the emptiness of his own mind. One of Hubert’s hands came to rest cupped around Ferdinand’s throat, exactly where it always rested, the other circling his dick so perfect and familiar.

Hubert breathed out, a sigh of pure, relaxed joy gracing Ferdinand’s ears, and that was enough. He came, and let go.

Deeper than sleep, lighter than love, Ferdinand drifted.

There was no landing, no waking. Only this suspension in a safety net he could not describe, warm and secure, nestled within something infinitely bigger than himself. When his sight returned, it felt less like a return of his senses, and more of a loss of some other sense, an awareness of something beyond him. But that loss was not something to be mourned, not when the first thing he saw was Hubert’s adoring gaze, lying next to him in what took a rather long time for Ferdinand to identify as their bed.

“Feeling better?” Ferdinand whispered, his voice harsher than he expected.

“I believe that is my line,” said Hubert with a smile.

“This was all for you, remember?” said Ferdinand, doing his best to keep heavy eyelids lifted. “You spent all night working on reports for some reason…” That was what had happened, right? It was hard to remember.

“And then I drained you dry,” said Hubert. Ferdinand wasn’t sure if he could see the exhausted smirk, or if he was only inferring it from his tone of voice. When had their bed gotten so soft?

“You-” Ferdinand yawned “-You needed it.”

“And now you need it.” Something pressed up against Ferdinand’s lips. A hand, covered in something wet.

“I’m not drinking third-hand blood,” muttered Ferdinand, even as he ached to have Hubert shove his fingers down his throat.

“Please, darling,” said Hubert. “I would like to see you wake up in the evening.”

Tears, unbidden, came to sting at the corners of Ferdinand’s eyes. Tomorrow evening. Another night, for the creatures of the shadows. Another round of evening meetings held at dusk under a fake veneer of sunset symbolism for the Empire.

Hubert’s hand pressed up against his mouth again, and his tongue lolled out to lap at the cut, the blood hot and tangy. Another cut on Hubert’s body. This one for him, by choice, inflicted here in their home, where no strangers would ever enter. A fresh cut, dominating his hand, taking back the space from the blackened scars of overuse of battle magic.

Ferdinand let his eyes fall all the way shut, Hubert drawing him close against his chest. His mind may fall in disarray, charred with emotion and tangled in on itself, but the flesh would remember.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi can I interest you in my Married Ferdibert Renounce their Family Names to Become Mr and Mr von Adrestia Because of Their Devotion To Edelgard and Her Cause Over the Outdated Hereditary Nobility System concept?  
But I hope you enjoyed this fic, I always appreciate constructive criticism if you have any thoughts on my writing. I'm @commanderfreddy on both twitter and tumblr if you wanna follow me for more never shutting up about these two.


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